Kiss the Sea
by talcumpowder
Summary: Stolen moments of rain, that's what they were. Demyx/Milo


**Pre-Notes:** Because the world needs more crack, I present you with completely serious Demyx/Milo. Crack pairings are srs bizzness. -nods sagely- Also: this . . . Takes place instead of the movie.**  
Disclaimer:** Honestly, half the characters wouldn't have _names_ if I owned it.**  
Summary:** Stolen moments of rain, that's what they were.

* * *

**Kiss the Sea**  
"_May I ask you where you gonna run to?_"

It was raining. Quite honestly, Milo wasn't so surprised that it was raining because . . . Well, it had been a miserable day, hadn't it? The board had rejected his proposal _again_, everyone still thought he was crazy and he was no closer to finding Atlantis.

He sighed, pulled his jacket in closer and entered his apartment building. After climbing up the stairs, he finally reached his apartment.

"I'm home. Fluffy? Here kitty."

He tugged on the chain and waited for light to flood the room. It never came.

"Sorry about that, 'lo. I think the bulb blew out."

Milo stopped dead in his tracks. That voice—it couldn't be! Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, Milo lifted his head. Without even noticing, his head tilted to the left and he blinked.

"Myde?"

* * *

It was raining. Then again, Myde seemed to make it rain. Milo found that when he was playing with Myde, it rained a lot. And even though Milo didn't really like rain, he found it easier to like rain when Myde was around. Right now, Milo was being tugged through the streets to a small group of trees. He giggled as they turned the corner.

When they got to the trees, Myde held a finger to his lips and pointed to the sky. It wasn't raining as much now . . . Actually, it seemed to be stopping some.

"Watch 'lo!"

And Milo watched, through wet and clingy bangs, as the rain let up and the sun came back out. It was a rainbow, perfect and curved.

* * *

"Helloooo. Miloooooooo are you theeeeere?"

Milo snapped back to the present as the person who looked like Myde waved a hand in front of his face. He shook his head and started to take off his coat. The Myde look-alike shook his head and pulled it back onto his shoulders. He smiled.

"It's been a long time, 'lo. Come take a walk with me. Please?"

The same long fingers Milo remembers twine with his and tug him out the door. There's a slight hiccup, because he has to lock the door, but before long the pair is outside. And they're running, running, running toward tomorrow like they always did. Milo smiles, for the first time in a long, long while.

* * *

He tried to tell himself that it was because Myde had been mean, uncaring and . . . And . . . A big jerkybean when he left. It had nothing to do with the fact that Milo _missed_ Myde. No, the rain of tears—they were tears of _anger_ and frustration.

Then again, how much of that frustration was at Myde being mean and how much was at the ache in his heart? Milo couldn't really tell the two apart. Was there even a difference?

It didn't matter.

* * *

"Do you remember?"

The question was so soft—ephemeral—that he had to confirm that it had been real. What, with how today was turning out, this might be a dream too. Perhaps it might be a hallucination. Maybe he had been thrown off that automobile a little harder than he thought.

"Remember what?"  
"The rain."

* * *

It rained on Myde's birthday. Milo was pretty sure it always rained on Myde's birthday. Myde, he was almost certain of this, controlled the rain. It was always happy rain though, it never felt sad because they would play and laugh and . . . And just be happy together.

Especially on Myde's birthday. Especially because Myde tasted like candied ocean. Especially when he wanted, wanted, wanted. That would have to wait. It was, after all, Myde's birthday. These things were not his to decide.

But they were going in the right direction when long fingers—piano fingers, Myde always tells him—dance quietly along his waistband.

So they tango to the pitter-patter of rain along a tin roof. Milo, it would seem, learns quickly.

* * *

"It always rains around you."  
The other turned with a smiled, "You do remember. I'm glad, I was afraid you'd forgotten the rain."  
"That would mean forgetting you, Myde."  
Laughter, "Maybe you filled your head so full of language that there wasn't enough room for me."  
"Maybe I learned the languages for you . . ."

They looked at each other. Milo's head was tilted to the left, like he always used to do when he said something to Myde. They were having a conversation of heart, as his grandfather used to say. It basically amounted to staring and headtilts. Because, sometimes, music was more important than words.

So the rain poured out a melody for them. And as their fingers intertwined, their bodies turned to face each other. Slowly, but surely, falling into the pattern they already knew.

Myde, Milo happily found out, still tasted like candied ocean. Because, as he had found out, there was nothing that tasted quite the same . . . It would have been tragic if just one thing, one simple thing, didn't stay the same. To maybe prove the wasn't (was?) a dream.

Did Milo want to wake? He didn't know. He didn't know if he could wake at all at this point. Perhaps he had fallen into a coma. Then again. Weren't comas dreamless?

It didn't really matter. Myde tasted like candied ocean.

* * *

"Try it."  
Milo made a face, "What is it?"  
"Sea-salt ice cream. Just try it, 'lo."

Hesitant, in that way he always was when he was studying something before tasting it, Milo licks the popsicle gently. It's cold, somewhat melted from him staring at it, and it tastes a little like Myde. Milo decides, very easily, that he loves this new kind of ice cream.

Myde's cousin, the one from the Philippines that always smelled a little like fish and always had dry skin, had brought it with her. A recipe for it, anyway. And, even though it's raining outside, she insists they try it. It's all the rage in America, she says. Or, at least, parts of it.

And so what if Myde has never heard of Kansas (or can't remember where it is, he isn't sure which)? The ice cream tastes good and it makes him happy. It's that enough?

* * *

As the kiss ended, Milo looked out into the street for no particular reason. Myde whispered into his ear, softly and just for him.

"Come with me, I'll take you to Atlantis."

* * *

**Postit-Notes:** I'd explain my whole philosophy on worlds and why this would even work, but that would be a fic unto itself. Maybe I'll write that later, but for now you get this!


End file.
